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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299702">Keep On Fighting In the Meantime</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark'>ephemeralstark</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Peter gets hurt/sick [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt Happy Hogan, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, Protectiveness, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trauma, Whump, spiderson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:15:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One decision is all it takes for someone's life to be thrown upside down, and sometimes it's not even a decision they've made.</p><p>Or, a drunk driver runs a red light and hits a car containing Peter and Happy. The physical and emotional injuries aren't going to go away easily, but thankfully Mr. Stark is always there for his family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Peter gets hurt/sick [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>ellie marvel fics - read</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Keep On Fighting In the Meantime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Read the tags and stay safe my friends &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Peter are you sure you don’t wanna come?” Ned asked as he shoved a pile of papers into his locker, Peter supressed a flinch as he heard some of them tear from the rough force.</p><p>“Nah, Mr. Stark said he had some upgrades for Karen and I want to see if I can get her to understand Gen Z humour,” Peter said, “she keeps trying to call for help whenever I make jokes. Apparently, it’s ‘concerning’.”</p><p>“I mean it probably is to the uninitiated.” Ned agreed as he tried to jam his locker shut, the papers sticking out around the edges of the door.</p><p>“Y’know, MJ is gonna kill you when she sees the state of those.” Peter told him.</p><p>“Yeah, but I told her I don’t have room in my locker to store decathlon prep, this will just prove my point.” Ned said with a shrug.</p><p>“Dude.” Peter said, shaking his head at his best friend. “You’re a dead man walking. Like genuinely. You must have a death wish.”</p><p>“Maybe if she kills me, I won’t have to go to that 8am practice on Saturday.” Ned said after a moment of quiet deliberation as he looked at his locker.</p><p>“Bold of you to assume even death could get you out of practice.” Peter snorted, before glancing at him phone that buzzed with a message. “I gotta go, I don’t want to keep Happy waiting. Have fun going over all the wrong answers with the team.”</p><p>“It’s meant to be a team dinner.” Ned said quietly, a distinct whine in his voice. “It’s meant to be fun and relaxing.”</p><p>“Sure, and MJ stepped down as the leader.” Peter muttered; his words laced with sarcasm.</p><p>Peter laughed at Ned’s despair and made his way out of the back door of the school. He had an agreement with Mr. Stark that he would allow himself to be picked up by Happy <em>so long</em> as he used the most discreet car and parked around the back of the school.</p><p>While it would have been nice to rub it in Flash’s face that he really was an intern with Stark Industries, he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the extra attention that would come with people believing his story. His classmates would pretend to be his friend only to get close to Mr. Stark and reap the benefits, the media would jump on the story of the high school intern, and some people – in the depths of the internet - would even begin to theorise that Peter Parker was in fact Spider-Man.</p><p>So, yes, Peter decided to give up on trying to convince his classmates that he wasn’t a liar.</p><p>The familiar Audi was parked by the yellow curb and Peter could see an irate looking Happy checking his watch in the driver’s seat. He mentally snorted, apparently discreet meant an Audi that was illegally parked. Mr. Stark really didn’t have a clue.</p><p>“You’re late.” Happy said as Peter opened the back door and threw his backpack in, sliding in after it.</p><p>“Actually, I’m not.” Peter said.</p><p>“I was here bang on 5:30.” Happy said. “Practice ended at 5:30 and now it’s 5:40. You’re ten minutes late.”</p><p>“You’re insane,” Peter declared happily, “and time is a construct. It doesn’t exist, we made it up as humans to suit our needs.”</p><p>“You’re not going to exist if you continue speaking nonsense,” Happy said as he pulled away, the child locks automatically clicking on, “time is a real thing, trust me I’ve had enough arguments with Tony about that, and if you’re late again I’m gonna leave you.”</p><p>“Mr. Stark would make you come back and get me if you left.” Peter said, calling Happy’s bluff.</p><p>“Don’t I know it.” Happy complained. “He’s going soft thanks to you.”</p><p>He didn’t say that like it was a bad thing, in fact, Peter thought he almost sounded happy about that fact, but that was impossible. This was Happy they were talking about. Happy was never happy. He was always the grumpy, stoic figure in the driver’s seat who would make snide remarks and complain about the rudeness of youths these days.</p><p>If Peter didn’t care so much for his life, he would have called him a grumpy grandpa.</p><p>“Did Mr. Stark tell you what upgrades he’s planned for Karen?” Peter asked.</p><p>“84 seconds.” Happy said.</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>“You managed to stay quiet for an entire 84 seconds, it’s your personal best.” Happy said. “Do you want to try for 100 seconds?”</p><p>“Happy, I-” Peter stammered, “was that? Did you just make a joke?”</p><p>“No.” Happy said. “I’m serious.”</p><p>“Oh, well in that case I should probably tell you that I lost interest in the ‘who can stay quiet the longest’ game when I was five.” Peter continued.</p><p>“So, your poor Aunt has been suffering for the last ten years?” Happy asked. “Poor woman deserves a medal.”</p><p>“Isn’t that the truth,” Peter mumbled. That was a point he wouldn’t argue on.</p><p>“Hey, Happy?”</p><p>“Kid really?” Happy asked. “What could you possible have to ask now?”</p><p>“Well, I was thinking ma-”</p><p>Peter didn’t get to finish his question.</p><p>His Spidey-Sense rang out loud and clear, it screamed ‘danger’ in his mind, and it was <em>ready </em>for the danger to come before Peter had even realised something was wrong – his hands were automatically in the air, waiting for a blow to land.</p><p>Peter’s Spidey-Sense had always been a bit of a guessing game, when he was in a dangerous situation it was useful, when he was fighting an armed assailant he knew that it going off would mean that he was at risk of being stabbed or shot and he could move in time. If he was walking in a dark alley, it could mean that there was someone behind him, so he could turn around in time and they’d lose the element of surprise.</p><p>But sitting in the back seat of a car? There was no one following, no one with a knife, and Peter knew Happy had a gun but one quick glance at him showed his hands in the typical ten and two position on the steering wheel. Not that Happy would ever shoot him on purpose, not unless Peter was <em>really, really </em>annoying.</p><p>Peter saw the danger too late, his Spidey-Sense had warned him but it was pointless because as he looked out the window and saw the truck coming towards them, he realised there was nothing he could do.</p><p>The truck hit with a bone-trembling crash, Peter heard Happy take a sharp breath before cursing loudly and slamming his foot on the breaks. He wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t do anything, they’d already been hit.</p><p>Metal gave way, crumbling under the force of the truck and shards of glass rained down on Peter as the windows shattered.</p><p>Peter watched numbly as his backpack was tossed around on the backseat as the car was forced to the side because of the impact that had been delivered. </p><p>He was pretty sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t focus on anything that was happening, there was too much noise and light and fear and <em>pain. </em></p><p>Peter didn’t even realise he had been knocked out until he woke up, blinking slowly to remove something from his eyes. He was struggling to focus properly, everything seemed to be hazy and the lights were trailing like a glow stick being waved through the air by a child on a dark night.</p><p> He guessed that he hadn’t been out for very long as he was still in the car, strapped in to his seat, he could hear people outside walking around – emergency services must not have arrived yet, because they seemed cautious and unsure about how to proceed.</p><p>“Should we pull them out?”</p><p>“I don’t think you’re meant to move people with head injuries.”</p><p>“How do we know they have a head injury?”</p><p>“How do we know they don’t?”</p><p>“That kid looks in rough shape, he’s bleeding a lot.”</p><p>“I think he’s awake.”</p><p>Peter groaned, he assumed that he was the kid that they were talking about, was he bleeding? Where? Oh. He looked down and saw a large, twisted piece of metal protruding from his chest, that was where. As soon as Peter saw the metal, he felt the pain, it was burning and all consuming, he wanted to grit his teeth and be strong, but he couldn’t.</p><p>At the end of the day he was a kid, a kid with jagged metal sticking into his body and he couldn’t hold in the screams of pain.</p><p>He wanted to go home. He wanted his Aunt.</p><p>“Ah, Ha- Hap-py?” He asked between grunts and gasps of pain.</p><p>No answer.</p><p>“Happy, ow, ah, p-p-please, answer me.” Peter pleaded.</p><p>He tried his best to focus, to listen for Happy’s heartbeat but his own was pounding too fast to hear anything else past it. There was too much happening, too many people outside, the car was still creaking and groaning, there were sirens in the distance and Peter’s senses were unreliable when he was feeling so frantic and distracted.</p><p>He was just like any other person in that moment, he had no enhanced senses to offer him reassurances, he would just have to hope that Happy was alright until someone gave him a reason to believe otherwise.  </p><p>“Clear the way, let us through.”</p><p>Peter tried to relax a little as he heard the paramedics arrive, they would help Happy, they’d make sure he was alive, they had to, they <em>had</em> to.</p><p>“Kid?” Peter hadn’t realised that the car was on its side until he looked up and saw a paramedic peering through the side window which was now on top facing the overcast skies. “We’re going to get you out, alright, just hold tight.”</p><p>“N-n-no,” Peter stammered, “not me. H-Happy.”</p><p>“Happy?” the paramedic asked in confusion, obviously wondering whether Peter had hit his head during the accident, to be fair, maybe he had. A lot had happened and at some point, he’d lost consciousness.</p><p>“D-driver.” Peter tried to elaborate, oh god why couldn’t they just get it? Every word was hurting.</p><p>“Alright, Happy is the driver,” the paramedic said, “don’t worry, we have another team here helping him.”</p><p>Peter looked to the front to see that they were telling the truth, there was a paramedic leaning through the broken windscreen to check on Happy, how had he missed them? Were his senses really failing him so drastically?</p><p>“See, we’re helping him too, now we’re probably going to need to get the fire service to cut you out, but don’t worry they’re already here so it won’t take long, in the mean time I’m going to come down there and see what I can do to help you.”</p><p>Peter nodded, letting his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he breathed through a spasm of pain caused by the movement of the car.</p><p>“What’s your name?” The paramedic asked.</p><p>“Peter.” He whispered, he was so tired, talking felt like too much energy.</p><p>“Alright Peter, now I’m coming down alright?”</p><p>He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was so tired.</p><p>The exhaustion was heavy, and it seemed to weigh him down, maybe a nap would be the best thing for him, he would only close his eyes for a minute. It would be fine… just a minute. Someone was talking to him, but Peter was too busy falling asleep to care.</p><p>-</p><p>“Pete? Peter, come on Kiddo,” a familiar voice was determined to rouse Peter from his peaceful slumber, but he was just as determined to stay in the blissful land of sleep, “Peter, come on, wake up. Please.”</p><p>Whoever that was, they sure were persistent, it was mildly irritating.</p><p>“He frowned,” another voice chipped in, also familiar but Peter still couldn’t place who they were, “did you see that, he definitely frowned!”</p><p>“Peter? Can you hear us?”</p><p>“He’s moving his lips!”</p><p>“Open your eyes, Peter.”</p><p><em>Ugh!</em> Peter complied, hoping that his irritation at being woken up was clear to see. Oh, it was May and Mr. Stark who had been talking, both of them standing over him and staring at him with expectant looks.</p><p>What were they waiting for?</p><p>“There he is,” May said softly, “you were beginning to worry us, sweetie.”</p><p>“Yeah, May over here was panicking like you wouldn’t believe.” Mr. Stark said, with a faint red hue across his cheeks, Peter was sure he could only see that thanks to his Spidey-Senses.</p><p>“Mhm,” May hummed, casting an unimpressed look at Mr. Stark, “<em>I</em> was the one panicking.”</p><p>“In my defence-”</p><p>“You have no defence,” May interrupted.</p><p>“I know, but a <em>car accident?</em>” Mr. Stark asked, Peter had the feeling that hadn’t been the first time he’d asked that question.</p><p>“A car accident?” Peter asked, trying to filter through hazy memories.</p><p>He couldn’t remember it properly, he could remember chatting to Ned and getting into the back of the Audi – Happy had been his usual grumpy self, but after that, everything was hazy and difficult to comprehend.</p><p>
  <em>Happy.</em>
</p><p>“Wait,” Peter mumbled, interrupting whatever it had been that Mr. Stark was going to say, “is Happy alright?”</p><p>“Uh,” May faltered, looking to Mr. Stark for help. Peter’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, since when did May look to him for advice, what was going on?</p><p>“Happy was pretty badly hurt,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “he’s in surgery at the moment.”</p><p>“Surgery?” Peter asked.</p><p>“He’s strong.” Mr. Stark said, trying to reassure him but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in a while. They both did.</p><p>“How long ago was the accident?” Peter asked.</p><p>“A few days, you’ve been in and out of it since then, but you haven’t been able to retain much,” May told him, as she ran a hand through his curls, “the doctors say it’s just because of a bad concussion, and it won’t be permanent.”</p><p>“So you’ve told me all of this before?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved.</p><p>“Just bits and pieces, this is the longest you’ve managed to keep your eyes open so far.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“That sounds exhausting,” Peter mumbled, screwing up his nose only to find that there was something shoved up it.</p><p>“Don’t pull at that.” May said, gently guiding his hand away, “it’s just something to give you a little extra oxygen and a tube to give you nutrition.”</p><p>“Why do I need oxygen?” Peter asked. “I was in a car crash.”</p><p>“You were pretty beat up from the accident,” May said calmly, too calmly, she was obviously trying her best not to cause him any worry, “there was a piece of- uh, a piece of metal that stabbed you.”</p><p>“Ok,” Peter said, hoping that he appeared calm enough for her to continue, how had he reacted to this in the past? Had he been told about it before? How much of this was actually news to him?  </p><p>“It pierced your lung and caused it to collapse,” May said, “they called it, uh, a pneumothorax.”</p><p>“Oh.” Peter said.</p><p>So… he’d had a collapsed lung, that wasn’t too bad, right? He’d heard about them before, sure, they were dangerous, but he was in the hospital and being cared for, surely that meant he was safe.</p><p>“You’re taking this better than last time?” Mr. Stark said, looking pleased with that fact.</p><p>“How did I take it last time?” Peter wondered.</p><p>“Ugh, there was some panicking, from you and me,” May admitted, “you were convinced that you were suffocating.”</p><p>“But,” Peter paused, feeling unsure of himself, “I’m not, right?”</p><p>“No, but you did lose a lot of blood, so you’ve had a few transfusions and you should be weaned off the oxygen soon.” May told him.</p><p>“It’s weird.” Peter mumbled.</p><p>“What is, sweetie?”</p><p>“It doesn’t hurt.”</p><p>Peter didn’t hear her reply, the sweet call of sleep was too much to resist, he fell into a peaceful slumber with the sound of May and Mr. Stark talking soothingly somewhere in the distance.</p><p>-</p><p>The next time Peter woke up, he was in darkness. His heart instantly jumped into action as he panicked and forgot where he was, the beeping from the monitor caused a dark mass to move from beside him.</p><p>“Hey, calm down, Underoos, it’s just me.” <em>Mr. Stark. </em>“You’re safe, you’re alright, it’s all ok.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Peter gasped, using the dim lights from some of the machines to focus on Mr. Stark’s face.</p><p>“Don’t apologise,” Mr. Stark said, quick to reassure him, “you’re in the hospital.”</p><p>“I know.” Peter said. “I remembered this time.”</p><p>“Oh, thank god.” Mr. Stark said, falling back against the chair in relief, Peter heard the small exhale of air from the force of hitting the backrest.</p><p>“I was just speaking to you and May?” Peter murmured, confused.</p><p>“You were, but you’re on some pretty hefty painkillers, Kiddo, you fell asleep for a few hours after that.” Mr. Stark told him.</p><p>“I don’t like feeling so tired.”</p><p>“It won’t be forever,” Mr. Stark said reassuringly, “in fact, your healing factor is doing amazing things for you right now. You’ll be home before you know it.”</p><p>That was right, Peter was Spider-Man, he had a healing factor that had probably saved his life. Happy, though, he didn’t.</p><p>“Mr. Stark?” Peter waited for the quiet hum to continue, “how is Happy doing?”</p><p>“He’s stable, he’s in the Intensive Care Unit, but they’re optimistic that he’ll be able to step down in the next day or two.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“Oh,” that was good, not that he was poorly enough to need the ICU, but that he was improving at least, “and May? Where is she?”</p><p>“She nipped home about an hour ago to grab a shower and some food, I promised to stay with you until she gets back.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>-</p><p>The next time Peter woke up, it was light, and the annoying tubing that was blowing dry air up his nostrils was gone. As was Mr. Stark. May had taken his place, curled up on an uncomfortable looking chair, with a book in one hand and a travel cup of coffee in the other – Peter could smell the faint hint of bitterness in the air, she was drinking coffee. That wasn’t like her, May said that coffee normally made her feel jittery.</p><p>“May?”</p><p>“Oh, sweetie, you’re awake,” she said, tossing her book aside and unfurling her legs so she could rush over to his side.</p><p>“This isn’t the hospital?” Peter was sure of that; he couldn’t smell the antiseptic in the air or hear the beeping of thousands of machines anymore.</p><p>“No, you’re stable enough that Tony managed to wrangle a transfer to the Med-Bay, although why they had to wait for you to be this stable is beyond me.” May muttered. “You have S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best doctors organising your care, they were looking after you in the hospital too because of your abilities, you could have been moved earlier.”</p><p>“I don’t need their best,” Peter mumbled, “I’m doing fine.”</p><p>May didn’t confirm or deny his statement, maybe she didn’t want to jinx anything or worry him, “do you want to try eating something?”</p><p>“Do they have jello?” Peter asked.</p><p>“Do they- of course they have jello, you do realise that this is Tony’s compound, right?” May asked with a teasing smile.</p><p>“Fair point,” Peter mumbled, blushing as May helped him sit up in the bed. Was he really so weak that he needed assistance to <em>sit?</em></p><p>
  <em>Ow. </em>
</p><p>“Too much?” May asked.</p><p>“No, it’s fine,” Peter lied, but he didn’t want her to overreact and lie him back down, he was hungry, “how long has it been since I’ve eaten?”</p><p>“A while, but they put that tube in your nose to make sure that you could still get some nutrients, because it just so happens that your metabolism means that you need quite a high intake.” May said. “Imagine my surprise at only hearing about this <em>now.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Oops.</em>
</p><p>“I, uh-”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m not going to lecture you while you’re recovering.” May said, waving away his attempts to cover his ass. “Now, sit still, don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be back in a moment with your jello.”</p><p>“I never do anything st- well, not intentionally.”</p><p>-</p><p>“This is a bad idea,” Mr. Stark muttered as he pushed the wheelchair, “like, a really, really bad idea.”</p><p>“Shh, if you speak too loudly someone will catch us.” Peter said, scolding his mentor.</p><p>It had been two weeks since the accident, two weeks since one of the most difficult experiences of Peter’s life. It was, however, one of the best days Peter had had since the event. He’d been struggling a lot with pain and lethargy, every medical professional had told him that it was perfectly normal, and that he was lucky to have survived, but Peter was growing restless.</p><p>He supposed that it made sense to be taking a while to recover when he shouldn’t have made it out alive, but he was Spider-Man, it shouldn’t be taking <em>so </em>long.</p><p>He’d wanted to be discharged from the compound, May and Mr. Stark had wanted him to stay in bed, they’d compromised by waiting until May left for work and Mr. Stark smuggled Peter into a wheelchair and promised to take him to visit Happy.</p><p>“Maybe someone should catch us.” Mr. Stark muttered.</p><p>“I swear, if you’re planning to sabotage us…” Peter let the threat hang in the air.</p><p>“You’ll what?” Mr. Stark asked. “Throw your jello at me? Tell on me? Kid, you won’t do anything, and you don’t need to, I’m not sabotaging anything.”</p><p>“How is…” Peter paused. “How is Happy?”</p><p>“He’s doing well, considering everything,” Mr. Stark said quietly, “he’ll be glad to see you.”</p><p><em>Will he? </em>Peter wondered, <em>it’s my fault he got hurt, I was the one he was picking up from school.</em></p><p>Peter had been told the details of the crash; he knew that it was no fault of Happy’s. A drunk driver had run a red light. It had been that simple and yet, that complicated.</p><p>So, logically, there was no blame to be placed on Peter, but then, it was Peter’s fault Happy was in the car; he knew that Mr. Stark would argue with him if he voiced that belief, so he kept quiet, he wasn’t ready for any reassurances, nor did he deserve them.</p><p>“Alright, we’re just in here.” Mr. Stark said, as he pushed Peter into a dimly lit room.</p><p>Happy had suffered a bleed on the brain thanks to the accident, apparently, he was still getting severe migraines and they were triggered by harsh lights and loud noises.</p><p>“He’s sleeping,” Peter whispered, “should we come back later?”</p><p>“No.” Mr. Stark hadn’t been the one to answer that.</p><p>“Happy?” Peter asked quietly.</p><p>“Long time no see, Kid, you’re late.” Happy mumbled, Peter vaguely registered Mr. Stark stepping out to give them a moment.</p><p>“Late?” Peter asked, unable to stop the smile from appearing as he grabbed the wheels and pushed himself closer.</p><p>“Yeah, I was expecting your annoying face to appear days ago, I never thought I’d get more than 84 seconds of peace.”</p><p>“You missed me.” Peter realised.</p><p>“Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth,” Happy said, “I most definitely did not say that.”</p><p>“You did, you missed me,” Peter repeated, “that’s ok, I missed you too… I was, uh, really worried about you.”</p><p>“I was worried about you too, Kiddo, you alright? You don’t look yourself.” Happy said.</p><p>“I’m good, much better now than I was.” Peter said.</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“Happy?” Peter asked, resisting the urge to lean forward and shake the man, “Happy? Uh, Mr. Stark!”</p><p>“What? Oh,” Mr. Stark had burst into the room when Peter had called, only to pause and look understandingly at him, “he’s just tired, Pete, he can’t stay awake for very long at the moment. Don’t worry, he’s just sleeping.”</p><p>“Oh,” Peter said simply, as he stared at Happy’s prone figure, “will he ever be back to normal?”</p><p>“Time will tell,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “the doctors seem optimistic, but they’re sure to let us know it’s a cautious optimism.”</p><p>“Can I go back to my room?” Peter asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.</p><p>“Yeah, of course you can, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said gently, turning the chair to push Peter out the room.</p><p>Peter closed his eyes, he could still see Happy lying there, looking so still in the bed, so pale… so-</p><p>No.</p><p>He was alright, he had sassed Peter, he wouldn’t have done that if he was as bad as he looked. Peter hadn’t realised how much he missed that attitude, how much he missed bickering playfully with Happy.</p><p>He missed the older man, the guy who had become such a daily staple in his life. Had he taken his presence for granted? Was that why this had happened? As some sick cosmic way to tell Peter he needed to appreciate those in his life more? Peter didn’t know, maybe there was no reason for any of it to happen, maybe sometimes shitty things just occurred.</p><p>Peter knew he should be focusing his questions on the drunk driver – the guy who had managed to walk away with a few lacerations and a broken arm, the man who was at fault had suffered the least. Was Peter a bad person for wishing that guy had been hurt more? Not so much that he had died, but just enough so that he would understand what he’d done to Peter and Happy. Maybe he was, maybe he was too vindictive to be Spider-Man.</p><p>“There’s a lot of thinking going on in that head of yours.” Mr. Stark said as he pushed Peter, “care to share?”</p><p>Peter shrugged, changing the subject, “this isn’t the way to my room, where are we going?”</p><p>“I figured you could see the common area before going back to bed, I stocked that fridge with jello too,” Mr. Stark murmured.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t really want to run into the Avengers, not today.” Peter said, feeling guilty for not being excited about Mr. Stark’s kind gesture.</p><p>“You won’t, they’re all out on a mission.” Mr. Stark reassured him. “The only person you might bump into is Rhodey, and even then, that’s a slim possibility, he’s meant to be in the gym doing his physiotherapy.”</p><p>“Alright then,” Peter said quietly. That wasn’t so bad – he liked Mr. Rhodes, he’d met him a few times and he’d always met Mr. Stark’s chaotic energy with his own deceivingly calm one, they were funny to see together, “as long as there’s lime jello.”</p><p>“You’re a really weird kid.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“So you keep saying.”</p><p>“Who even likes lime jello?”</p><p>“I do,” Peter said with a pout.</p><p>Mr. Stark wheeled him into the common area, it was large and empty – just as promised.</p><p>“So,” Mr. Stark said, clicking the breaks on so he could go rootle about in the fridge, “what’s on your mind?”</p><p>Peter shrugged, staring at the tabletop until a green pot of jello slid in front of him, followed by a shiny metal spoon.</p><p>“Eat up, there’s plenty more where that one came from,” Mr. Stark said, “I’m telling you <em>no one </em>likes lime jello.”</p><p>“Well, I do,” Peter mumbled, peeling away the foil lid and crumpling it in a fist, “it’s the best flavour and it’s even better that no one else likes it because then I get it all to myself.”</p><p>“Can’t argue with that logic.” Mr, Stark said, taking a seat opposite Peter with his own pot of red Jello – so Mr. Stark was a strawberry guy, that figured.</p><p>“What are you trying to do?” Peter asked, narrowing his eyes at his mentor.</p><p>“What do you remember from the car accident?” Mr. Stark asked.</p><p>“Nothing.” Peter lied.</p><p>“Hmm, nope, I’m not buying that,” Mr. Stark said, “you’ve been having nightmares, you keep zoning out, you’re refusing to talk about anything to do with it… you remember.”</p><p>“Did May put you up to this?” Peter asked as he slurped jello off the spoon, trying to distract himself from what Mr. Stark was asking about.</p><p>
  <em>Smoke… he could smell smoke all around him, and the sticky odour of engine oil mixing in with something metallic and…oh. Blood. Someone was bleeding, was it him? or Happy? Was Happy even alive? Was Peter? </em>
</p><p>“-concerned, like me, Underoos,” Peter blinked and tried to focus on Mr. Stark’s words rather than the memories of that afternoon, “we want to help you, we want to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”</p><p>“Mr. Stark, I had a collapsed lung, numerous broken bones, contusions, lacerations, a concussion that caused me to lose days from my memories, and I needed multiple blood transfusions.” Peter said. “I get you guys want to make me feel better, but I almost died, there’s a good chance I would have without my Spider-Man abilities.”</p><p>“So, you feel like you shouldn’t be alive?” Mr. Stark asked.</p><p>“No…well, kinda, not like I wish I’d died or anything,” Peter was quick to reassure him, “just, if I was meant to die, didn’t I cheat?”</p><p>“Cheat?”</p><p>“Yeah, like I should be in just as bad shape as Happy is, but because of my abilities I’m sitting in the common area eating jello with you while Happy can barely stay awake for a five minute conversation. It feels unfair, he should be the one sitting here with you.”</p><p>“You want to swap places?” Mr. Stark asked, but Peter could tell he didn’t expect an answer. “Kiddo, you can’t think like that.”</p><p>“Why not? Don’t you want the same thing?” Peter wondered.</p><p>“Of course not!” Mr. Stark’s voice was loud and verging on shouting, it hurt Peter’s still tender brain. “I don’t want either of you to be in Happy’s position, and just because you can heal, doesn’t mean that you aren’t affected by the crash.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“I’m sorry for shouting, kid, but you’re not, you’re wishing you could swap with Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re wishing for further injuries because you feel some sort of misguided guilt over what happened.”</p><p>“It’s not misguided!” Peter snapped, dropping his spoon on the desk with a clatter.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Mr. Stark asked gently, too gently, Peter broke.</p><p>“Happy should have never been there, I shouldn’t have been ten minutes late, I could have walked or got a bus or a taxi or swung over, I could hav-”</p><p>“Woah, woah, woah!” Mr. Stark interrupted. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”</p><p>Peter copied Mr. Stark’s exaggerated deep breaths, mimicking the man like he used to as a kid – back when Ben would applaud him for wearing one of his old suit jackets that hung down to Peter’s ankles and tripped him up as he paced back and forth in front of the TV quoting Tony Stark’s clean energy speeches.</p><p>“Peter…kiddo…you can’t tell me you think this was your fault?”</p><p>“Why not?” Peter asked numbly. “It was.”</p><p>“No, it wasn’t, it was George Hendersen’s fault. No one else’s.”</p><p>Huh, George Hendersen. It was such a normal name, the kind that a father, brother, son would have. Peter wondered how many people were left confused and pained over his actions? How many members of his family were trying to deal with the knowledge that he had gotten behind the wheel of his car, drunk?</p><p>“Why did he do it?” Peter asked, tears falling without his permission.</p><p>“Oh, kid,” Mr. Stark said, abandoning his red jello in favour of kneeling beside Peter’s wheelchair, “look at me-” he paused, waiting for Peter to comply, “I don’t know. I wish I did, I really do. I wish I could give you an answer that would make all the pain and fear make sense, but I don’t have anything to tell you.”</p><p>“I hate him.” Peter said, the words pouring out without any bite thanks to the sobs that escaped with them. “Is that wrong of me?”</p><p>“No,” Mr. Stark said, “hate is a real strong emotion, and my therapist would probably say it’s dangerous to hold onto hate, but personally I hate him too.”</p><p>“I wish he hadn’t done it.”</p><p>“Me too, kiddo, me too.” Mr. Stark said quietly, before holding his arms open, “come here.”</p><p>Peter fell into them easily, breathing in the familiar scent of cologne and grease, Mr. Stark wouldn’t let George Hendersen hurt him or Happy again.</p><p>-</p><p>“What do you mean he got community service?”</p><p>Peter’s head jumped off the pillow with a protesting throb at the shriek that seemed to pierce through his walls and door.</p><p>“May, calm down,” Mr. Stark’s voice was quieter, he was trying not to wake Peter, not that it mattered now, “you know I’m going to get Pepper and my best team of lawyers on the case.”</p><p>“How the fuck could this happen?” May asked, only a fraction quieter.</p><p>“He’s rich, white, and has connections.”</p><p>“He nearly killed two innocent people!”</p><p>Peter carefully slipped his legs out of bed, toeing on his slippers and inching towards the door.</p><p>“He will pay, even if it kills me, I’ll make sure that he pays for what he did to Pete and Hap.”</p><p>Peter opened the door, alerting May and Mr. Stark to the fact that he was awake. They cast glances at each other meaningfully before their expressions smoothed out, they were planning to keep it from him.</p><p>Did they think that he couldn’t handle this? That he would break down at the thought of his almost murderer walking about normally? His only punishment being that he was losing his free time to help clean the streets of New York or something. Would they even suggest rehab?</p><p>“Hey, morning Peter, I thought I’d drop by on my way to work,” May said with her familiar, easy smile.</p><p>“Look at you, up on your own!” Mr. Stark said looking proud. “How do you feel?”</p><p>“My leg aches a little, where the break was, but otherwise I’m alright,” Peter mumbled, looking between the two of them, <em>come on, come clean and tell me. </em></p><p>“Well, sit yourself down, I’m making breakfast and you can take your painkillers.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“You’re making breakfast? You?” Peter asked as he hesitantly took a seat at the table.</p><p>“Hey!” Mr. Stark protested, flicking some pancake batter Peter’s way. It landed on his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. Back when the Avengers were an actual team, me, Cap and Bruce would make huge meals. We could have fed an army; trust me Cap would have known.”</p><p>“Do you miss those days?” Peter asked, taking a sip of the glass of milk that was placed in front of him; Mr. Stark didn’t let him drink coffee. Apparently, he had his hands full enough without a caffeinated Spider-Kid sticking to his ceiling, Peter hadn’t mentioned that he had never been on the ceiling in the Compound…at least not that Mr. Stark had seen.</p><p>“Sometimes,” Mr. Stark replied with a shrug, “but I prefer these days more.”</p><p>May smiled, seemingly understanding whatever Mr. Stark had meant by that.</p><p>“You’re weird.” Peter declared, wiping the milk moustache away with the back of pyjama top’s sleeve.</p><p>“Peter!” May scolded in exasperation. “There’s a stack of napkins right there.”</p><p>“Oh, uh, sorry.”</p><p>Peter bluffed his way through breakfast and made his excuses to leave and shower as soon as he thought he would get away with it – too soon and they may have realised that he had been listening to their conversation.</p><p>“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Peter asked quietly.</p><p>
  <em>“Yes, Peter?” </em>
</p><p>“Uh, if I asked you to look someone up, would you tell on me?” Peter asked, feeling like a little kid trying to convince an older sibling not to tattle to mom.</p><p><em>“It depends on who you want me to look up and what information you would like to know about them.”</em> F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.</p><p>“Oh, ok, so <em>theoretically </em>if I asked you to look up someone called George Hendersen, would you tell MR. Stark about that?” Peter asked.</p><p><em>“Yes, George Kieran Hendersen is on the list of people you are not allowed access to, and should you request it I will be forced to send an alert to Mr. Stark’s cell.” </em>F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.</p><p>“You haven’t though, right?” Peter asked quickly. “I wasn’t asking you to actually do it, I said ‘theoretically’.”</p><p>
  <em>“Correct, the alert has not yet been sent.” </em>
</p><p>“Great, uh, thanks F.R.I.”</p><p>
  <em>“No problem.”</em>
</p><p>Peter groaned and shoved his face in his pillow, of course Mr. Stark would put safeguard in place, this was the man who had created the baby monitor and training wheels protocols.</p><p>He knew Peter, but… he didn’t know Peter’s friends.</p><p>Peter pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text to his best friend:</p><p>
  <em>‘Hey Ned, I need you to do me a favour and look up a George Kieran Hendersen pls’ </em>
</p><p>Send.</p><p>Ned was probably at school, but that didn’t stop him from replying in a matter of seconds. <em>Sorry dude, Mr. Stark already said I couldn’t.</em></p><p>Well, fuck…</p><p>Peter could have screamed into his pillow.</p><p>-</p><p>
  <em>Blood. There was blood everywhere, it was surrounding Peter, preparing to drown him and he couldn’t breathe. He was covered in the thick dark red liquid. It filled every gap and stained everything around him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was in the car, the Audi, but it didn’t look like it normally did. The silver paintwork was coated in the sickening red liquid, and the metal frame was twisted and jagged; it looked sharp and ready to bite Peter. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Happy, we need to stop, this is wrong.” Peter said, from his place in the back seat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Happy couldn’t hear him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The glass shattered. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Happy, we need to stop, something bad is going to happen.” Peter continued. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He still couldn’t hear Peter, he needed to get closer, Peter pushed the button to release his seatbelt but it nothing happened. He jammed his finger against it repeatedly, trying his hardest to free himself from the strangling hold it had on him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Happy, please, stop the car, he’s going to hit us.” Peter begged. “Please! Stop! Stop the car! Stop the c-”</em>
</p><p>“-eter! Peter! Come on kiddo, that’s it, come on,” Mr. Stark’s voice pulled him from the blood filled, twisted car.</p><p>“Misser Star’?” Peter slurred in confusion, before the panic brought him back to consciousness faster. “Blood, I’m covered in blood, and I can’t move.”</p><p>“There’s no blood kiddo.”</p><p>“No blood?” Peter mumbled out the question in confusion, how was that possible? He could feel it, it was everywhere. He was covered in it.</p><p>“No blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you turn the lights up please?”</p><p>Peter blinked against the harsh light but allowed Mr. Stark to pull him up into a sitting position, still leaning heavily against the older man.</p><p>“Look, kiddo, no blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed.</p><p>He was right. “But it was so real?” Peter marvelled, running a hand over his t-shirt, trying to find traces of the red liquid that he had been so convinced was there.</p><p>“Nightmares will do that to you, kiddo.”</p><p>“It wasn’t a nightmare.” Peter mumbled.</p><p>“No?” Mr. Stark asked, “what would you call it then?”</p><p>“I uh, I don’t know,” Peter mumbled. “I’m fine though, I’m completely fine.”</p><p>“Come on,” Mr. Stark said, standing up and holding out a hand to pull Peter up off the bed.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Peter asked.</p><p>“Well, me and Happy were having hot cocoa and I figure you’d benefit from joining us.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“You guys are having hot cocoa?” Peter asked in confusion.</p><p>“He’s still getting migraines and I’m meant to be caffeine free after 6pm.” Mr. Stark said with a shrug.</p><p>Happy had been improving, slowly but surely, it had been a month since the accident and Peter was physically all better, but he refused to leave the compound until he knew that Happy was better. Thankfully, Mr. Stark had been able to use his influence to organise online classes for Peter to complete the year and May had understood.</p><p>Peter was lucky.</p><p>Happy was lucky.</p><p>So why wasn’t it good enough? Why was he still faced with the nightmares and the memories? Why did he flinch when a car honked its horn? Why did he wish he had taken Happy’s place? Why did he wish Hendersen could feel the same pain they had felt?</p><p>“It’s a bit late for you to be up.” Happy commented as Peter sat opposite him, Peter followed his gaze to the clock – 01:21 – huh, maybe it was a little late.</p><p>“One hot cocoa coming right up, peppermint free for the spider.” Mr. Stark announced as he rummaged in the fridge for milk.</p><p>“I couldn’t sleep.” Peter lied to Happy.</p><p>“Yes, you could,” Happy corrected, “you just couldn’t forget.”</p><p>“Can you?” Peter asked.</p><p>Maybe 1am was the time to be honest, maybe when the safety of daylight was gone, the night-time allowed them to be vulnerable with each other.</p><p>“No.” Happy said gruffly. “Honestly, I can’t forget any of it, and I’ll never stop feeling sorry.”</p><p>“Sorry for what?” Peter asked, frowning to himself.</p><p>“For not stopping in time.” Happy said.</p><p>“The light was green; you were right to go.” Peter said, staring at Mr. Stark’s back as he did so, he couldn’t meet Happy’s gaze. He couldn’t look him in the eye while knowing that he was the reason that the accident had happened.</p><p>“I saw the truck coming.” Happy said. “I just couldn’t do anything in time, I couldn’t stop quick enough or swerve out of the way. I could have killed you kid, because I couldn’t do anything other than panic.”</p><p>“Happy…” Peter paused, trying to work through everything that he’d just heard. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard you say, and you told me you hate froyo.”</p><p>“Yeah, me and Hap have been trying to work through his misguided guilt over the accident.” Mr. stark said, placing a mug in front of Peter.</p><p>“It’s not misguided.”</p><p>“You’re right, it’s completely unwarranted.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>Wait. What?</p><p>“Happy, no,” Peter interrupted, “you don’t need to feel guilty, none of this was your fault. It was mine. I should have been on time after Decathlon practice, I should have been ten minutes earlier and then we wouldn’t have been at that intersection at the same time as Hendersen, I should have gotten to the tower some other way. You are Mr. Stark’s head of security; you shouldn’t be chasing me around the city or chauffeuring me back and forth between here and Queens.”</p><p>“Kid, Happy is the only one I would trust with you.” Mr. Stark said. “Both of you need to get off your self-sacrificial high horses and accept that the only person who should be taking any blame for this is the guy who decided to drive whilst drunk.”</p><p>“Tony told me you were trying to look him up.” Happy said quietly.</p><p>Peter’s gaze shot to Mr. Stark who was purposefully looking at the countertop, <em>he knew? </em>Why hadn’t he said anything?</p><p>“F.R.I.D.A.Y. you’re a traitor.” Peter mumbled.</p><p><em>“I did not tell Mr. Stark about your theoretical enquiry.” </em>F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.</p><p>“You didn’t?”</p><p>“No, she didn’t, it was Ned.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“Ned?” Peter asked, betrayed by his own best friend.</p><p>“Yeah, he’s worried about you, you’ve been dodging his calls, ignoring his texts and then you randomly messaged him asking him to trace the person who hit you and Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “I think he’s pretty right to be worried.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Peter said.</p><p>“No, you’re not.” Mr. Stark interrupted.</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“You’re not,” Happy said, “and I know, because I’m not either.”</p><p>“You- you’re not?” Peter asked.</p><p>“Not at all, Kiddo.”</p><p>-</p><p>Two long, difficult months had passed since the accident. Peter was doing fine, he really was, despite what Happy and Mr. Stark said. He was going out as Spider-Man for a couple of hours each evening, he was meeting his friends once or twice a week and he was planning to ask MJ on a date.</p><p>He was fine.</p><p>Sure, he was still having nightmares, he refused to get in a car, and he would freak out at the sight of blood – which in retrospect made being Spider-Man slightly more difficult, but he was doing fine.</p><p>He didn’t really understand why he was still having so many ‘problems’.</p><p>He was alive.</p><p>He should be grateful for that; he knew that Happy was. Happy was even driving around the Compound, he wasn’t quite at the point where he could drive the streets of New York, but he was certainly doing well within private grounds.</p><p>May had brought up the subject of him moving back into the apartment a few times, and Peter wanted to, he really did, but every time he ventured into the city there were cars <em>everywhere</em>. They were loud, their tyres would screech, and horns would blare. Even though Peter wasn’t in them, he was <em>scared. </em></p><p>He knew he was worrying everyone.</p><p>He was worrying himself.</p><p><em>“Peter, this isn’t your normal patrol area.” </em>Karen said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.</p><p>“I know, K, I just have something to do here,” Peter mumbled, as he scaled a building, eyes fixed on the balcony that he remembered from his computer screen, “it won’t take long.”</p><p>
  <em>“Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your detour?”</em>
</p><p>“What? No! why would I want that?” Peter asked, irritation staining his tone. Why was everyone so ready to snitch on him?</p><p><em>“Just in case back up was required.” </em>Karen said. <em>“But your wishes have been noted.”</em></p><p>“Thanks, I promise, we’ll be back to our normal patrols soon.”</p><p>By normal – peter did not mean normal at all – he meant a short patrol in a low traffic area of town. He wasn’t ready to handle car accidents and hijackings just yet. Soon, but not right now.</p><p>The door to the balcony was slightly open, obviously the man inside hadn’t expected anyone to climb up to the seventh floor, after all, why would he?</p><p>“No, no, no, Jennifer, stop, think about this.” A man pleaded, he sounded so normal.</p><p>“I can’t do this anymore George,” Jennifer said, “I just can’t, you don’t even have any remorse.”</p><p>“I have plenty of remorse!” George shouted. Peter flinched. “I’m not allowed to drive anymore, my job laid me off, you and the kids have been so distant lately and that fucker, Stark, is still coming for me.”</p><p>“They’re all consequences.” Jennifer said. “That’s not remorse for your actions.”</p><p>“What more do you want?”</p><p>“I want you to look fucking sorry, that kid you hit? Stark’s intern? He’s the same age as your daughter.”</p><p>“I know that!”</p><p>“Why don’t you care?”</p><p>“He’s fine, he’s got Stark’s money, he won’t even care at this point.”</p><p>“This is about money?”</p><p>“No, it’s about you being a fucking judgemental bitch when you’ve made mistakes.” George shouted.</p><p>“Yeah, my biggest one was marrying you!”</p><p>
  <em>SLAM</em>
</p><p>Huh, maybe Hendersen wasn’t as happy as Peter had thought, but still, he wasn’t as guilty as he’d hoped. He didn’t even seem to care that he was drunk driving, he only cared that he had been caught.</p><p>“Hey, Karen?” Peter whispered.</p><p>
  <em>“I’m here.” </em>
</p><p>“Can you tell Mr. Stark that I’ll be home early tonight?” Peter asked.</p><p>
  <em>“Sure thing.” </em>
</p><p>Peter had meant to confront Hendersen, to shout at him and tell him how much his actions had hurt Peter and his family, but now it seemed pointless. If Hendersen’s wife wasn’t getting through to him, why would he care what Peter had to say? Why would he care that Peter was still traumatised and scared? He wouldn’t.</p><p>Peter had heard the cocky edge to his voice, he knew that nothing he said would break through. It was pointless.</p><p>But peter wanted to be <em>better. </em></p><p>
  <em>Thwip</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thwip </em>
</p><p>He wanted to be the old Peter, the one who had carelessly thrown his backpack in the car and jumped in behind it. The one who knew accidents happened but never thought that any would happen to him.</p><p><em>Nobody ever does, </em>Peter thought bitterly, as he ran out of trees to swing from and resorted to trudging the last few miles to the Compound.</p><p>“Hey, Pete,” a metallic voice said from beside him causing him to jump nearly a mile out of his skin, why hadn’t he heard him approach? Was he that off his game?</p><p>“Mr. Stark.”</p><p>“Karen said you’d be early.” Mr. Stark said, the suit retracting so he could walk beside Peter.</p><p>“Yeah, I told her to.”</p><p>“Do you want to talk about it?” Mr. Stark asked.</p><p>Did he?</p><p>Not really.</p><p>Yes.</p><p>“I went to Hendersen’s apartment.” Peter admitted. He heard Mr. Stark’s sharp inhale, but was grateful that he wasn’t interrupting, instead he was letting Peter talk. “I know I shouldn’t have. It was stupid.”</p><p>Peter pulled his mask off, he was on the Compound grounds, there wouldn’t be anyone going about to see him.</p><p>“It was.” Mr. Stark agreed.</p><p>“I didn’t speak to him.” Peter said. “I just stood outside; he was arguing with his wife.”</p><p>
  <em>He has a wife, and kids, he’s such an ordinary man. </em>
</p><p>“Did it help?”</p><p>“No.” Peter said simply. “I want to hate him. I wanted to talk to him and make him hurt as much as I did, but then I heard him talking to his wife and I don’t know anymore. I don’t think that any amount of talking would help. He was a <em>bad </em>guy.”</p><p>“It’s not fair.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“I don’t know what I wanted.” Peter admitted. “I guess I’m just fed up of feeling like this.”</p><p>“Scared?”</p><p>“Always.” Peter mumbled. “It was a car accident, people have them all the time, why can’t I just get over it?”</p><p>“because you’re a kid, and it was scary and it’s not something you’re going to be able to forget about quickly.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“I should be stronger.”</p><p>“You’re plenty strong.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re the strongest kid I know, in fact you’re stronger than most adults.”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>“No buts on this on, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said.</p><p>“Aren’t I making your life harder by being here though?”</p><p>“Not in the slightest, I love having you here, just ask Pepper and May.” Mr. Stark said. “I’d keep you if I could.”</p><p>“I’d stay if I could.” Peter admitted. “I’m scared to go back to May’s.”</p><p>“Have you thought anymore on my offer of therapy?” Mr. Stark asked.</p><p>“I have…” Peter said, hesitating, he didn’t want to take Mr. Stark’s money, but… “I think I want to go for it.”</p><p>“I’ll support you every step of the way, Kiddo.” Mr. Stark promised.</p><p>“I know.” Peter said. “I heard something else at Hendersen’s… he said you were going after him?”</p><p>“Damn right I am,” Mr. Stark said, ruffling Peter’s hair, “he hurt one of my closest friends and my kid.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>please drop a comment or send me a message/ask on tumblr i'm @<a href="https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/">ephemeralstark</a> </p><p>this fic has been in the works for a while but recently my motivation came back full force and here we are. I hope you enjoyed it, and stay home &amp; safe where possible my lovelies!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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